"Adams, come over here. You're not getting your knees up high enough."
"Davis, pay attention to your footwork. You were a little sloppy last week."
Squad members stand up and huddle for a final word: "Do exactly what we've been practicing all week. Don't try any new, fancy stuff. And don't tug on your shorts, scratch, or tuck anything in. It looks bad on television. Okay, everybody, keep smiling and remember to sparkle. Now get out there—and dance!"
The crowd roars a welcome as the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, heralded as "36 of the prettiest girls in Texas," come prancing out on the artificial turf of Texas Stadium. To the rue of their sisters around the league—like Oakland's Raiderettes and the Buffalo Jills—the Cowgirls are the best and the brightest cheerleaders in all pro football. They have also become almost as famous as the championship team they represent.
"They're dynamite young women," raves Dallas Cowgirl coach Suzanne Mitchell, secretary to Cowboy general manager Tex Schramm. Two years ago Schramm noticed that the TV cameras were lingering on the Cowgirls, who then numbered only eight. He decided to increase their ranks to 32 (plus four substitutes) and spread them to the four corners of the field "so everybody can see." Mitchell, or "Top Kick," as she is called, took over the squad. "I am the only 34-year-old unmarried mother to 36 women," Mitch laments. Previously she worked with the U.S. ski team and, as an executive secretary, put out a company newspaper for Ziff-Davis, a New York publisher.
"We get accused of having big-chested girls who are bursting out of their blouses," Mitch says peevishly. "That's most unfair. And untrue." The average Cowgirl is 21, a fourth are married, several have children, and their occupations range from student to grocery checkout clerk, from airline stewardess to nuclear medicine technician. "They are not all pretty in the classic sense," Mitch adds. "Some are flat-chested, or have big fannies or gaps in their teeth. But in their own way they all have something special."
Dallas thinks so, male and female. When auditions were held last spring 675 women applied, although regular season pay ($15 a game) barely covers expenses. "It's all part of the mystique of being with the Dallas Cowboys," Mitch explains. "If the same girls were with the Denver Broncos, it just wouldn't be the same, and they know it."
Drill sergeant for the Cowgirls is dark-eyed Texie Waterman, a 40ish professional dancer who choreographs the girls through 30 routines, with code names like "Choo-choo," "Ric-rac," "Swivel-and-push." (The one thing they don't do is cheer.)
"All the girls we select can dance," says Texie. "I have to teach them to get their heads and feet together in routines with the others." This requires weekly practice at Texie's Dallas dance studio, for which the girls are not paid. The rules are strict: a woman who misses one rehearsal does not appear in the next game. Two rehearsals, off the team.
As a result, attendance is scrupulous, tantrums are few. "There will always be some nitpicking things," says Mitch, "like someone who thinks her halter is being tied too tight, while another girl is allowed to look sexy." When bickering erupts, Mitch says, "it's time for a kick in the pants." Recently a rash of complaints over nonconformance with the jewelry and halter code subsided in laughter when she exploded: "Look, I'm not going to line you all up before each game for earring and boob inspection!"
Mitch subscribes to "Clean is sexy." Uniforms must be spotless. Girls may not make publicity appearances where liquor is served. On the field no gum chewing is allowed. (One Cowgirl was caught with a plug of Red Man tobacco. Though gorgeous, she was fired.) What about dating the football players? "No written rule is necessary," declares Mitch firmly. "The girls know how I feel about that. It's not a good idea."
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
